


The Taste of You.

by Michaelssw0rd



Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV)
Genre: A.K.A another retelling of a scene I am OBSESSED with from Matthew's pov, F/M, Fluff, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampires, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 16:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16178756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelssw0rd/pseuds/Michaelssw0rd
Summary: ...and then Diana asked him what she would taste like.Matthew’s heart didn’t beat very often, but just then, it stopped.





	The Taste of You.

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is again, another scene with all the elements that hit all the right buttons for me, and another time i retell it from PoV of my now-favorite vampire.  
> You all seemed to enjoy my last fic (something I'm blown away by, hi, all you vampire lovers)... so I hope you enjoy this one too. 
> 
> Also, I may or may not have started writing another ill advised ficlet about what would've happened in this scene if Matthew had just a little bit LESS control than he does.

Fear and desire.

The two emotions that kept the world turning.

That’s what Matthew had told her, and she had certainly taken it to her heart. Because right now, she reeked of _both_.

Diana was terrible for his control, and yet… he was drawn to her. Couldn’t keep away even if he tried. If he was honest with himself—something he always strived to be—he didn’t even try. Didn’t want to. Not when she smiled at him with such trust in her eyes. Not when he heard him warn her about the terrible things he had done, and instead of running away, invited him to dinner.

She was a naïve and reckless fool. Rejecting her was not even an option.

So here he was, sitting across from her around an intimately set, candlelit table, and talking about what the food _tasted_ like.

As if his senses could even register anything other than the sound of her witch blood running in her veins, calling to him with every beat of her heart. As if he could focus on anything other than the smell of her, sweet and alluring, everything he hadn’t even known he wanted until he met her. She must’ve been able to sense it, she _must_ , because her heart had sped up, and it took all Matthew had to hold on to his control a little longer, just a little more, until he was a safe distance away from her.

And then she asked him what she would taste like.

Matthew’s heart didn’t beat very often, but just then, it stopped.

He felt his control crack at the seams, heard his bloodlust like white noise in his ear. The red wine in his mouth tasted like ash, and he was parched for a taste of something else, desperate to sate a hunger that Diana’s words had just reawakened.

“Don’t ever say that to me,” he said, and hoped she heard the warning in it. And the plea.

He didn’t deserve to be tested that way. Not when he was trying so hard to be _good_ for once.

Instead of heeding him, instead of sensing the danger and running away, she came even closer, taunting him. Did she not understand the situation she was in? Did she not know she was the prey here; the _food_.

“It would take only a moment,” he told her, his voice harsh. A moment he craved so much. A lapse in control he could easily excuse if he wanted to: it was in his nature; she pushed him; he couldn’t help himself.

Just a moment, and “You would not be able to stop me if I struck, and I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.”

And wasn’t that the bitter truth. He wouldn’t be able to stop. When it was so hard to refrain from baring his teeth and sinking them in her flesh, it would take a will power more than he possessed—more than any vampire possessed—to have her blood on his tongue and stop from consuming until she was drained of every drop of it.

He knew she understood what he was saying, could hear it in the way her heart rate picked up and her adrenaline spiked. She was obviously scared, and yet she stepped even closer until his vampire senses were overwhelmed by her smell, her warmth. Overwhelmed by her.

“I’m safe with you,” she said, not to reassure herself, but to reassure _him._

Oh how wrong she was. To prove his point, he jerked her closer and held her head, vulnerable and exposed. He smelt the spike of her fear, saw the widening of her eyes, and still… she made no move to resist him.

He told her about what she did to him, the smell of her, and the call of her blood. He told her about willow sap and of lady’s mantle, and all the things he had thought he had forgotten. What he didn’t tell her, what was the most wretchedly alluring of it all, was that she smelled of _him._ He cursed all those moments he had spent with her, wrapping her in his coat and taking her to all the places in this small corner of the world that he could call his own. He had already laid a claim to her while convincing himself that he was doing the opposite.

She shook in his arms, reeking of fear, and yet quite obviously unafraid—like she wanted to be there, held vulnerable in arms of a predator that could kill her in a second.

Her curious paradox of emotions was what held him still as she turned, slowly, remembering his previous lesson of no sudden movement. Her palms on his chest bled warmth through his cold heart, as she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

Matthew felt a craving of an entirely different kind stir in him, and his heart that had stopped kicked up, until he wondered if he wasn’t a prey in this situation after all, defeated not by sharp teeth, but ripped apart by soft lips.

He dared not move, dared not _breathe,_ because he wanted too much, _needed_ too much, and if he took in a breath of air that his lungs craved, he would give in to the other cravings too, and he didn’t know where he will stop.

All of a sudden, Matthew realized that he was afraid too.

He kept his eyes open, and watched as she trembled in front of him, as she withdrew and despair colored her desire when he didn’t even soften to her touch. And yet she looked at him with her expressions wide open.

She had wanted something, and despite the danger—despite her fear—she had had the courage to take it.

She was braver than him.

All Matthew could do was choke out a few words he barely understood he was saying, and run away.

He was halfway out of the door when he realized she wasn’t chasing him… wasn’t aiming for the kill despite having caught him. She was letting her prey go, waiting if it would come back.

And even now, with adrenaline in his veins and his heart pounding in his chest the way it hadn’t in centuries, he knew he would come back.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this little thing, let me know, pretty please? It makes my day, also encourages more words :D


End file.
